Coffee Break
by Cpt. Kallan Beyda
Summary: A series of Vignettes set in the coffee breaks between episodes. We get a glimpse of the young men and woman behind G-Force. Ever wonder about those very private messages Mark sends Princess sometimes. Well our story starts there and demonstrates a lighter side of life, love and laughter.
1. Private Messages

'Mark?' Jill indicated the communicator strapped to Princess's wrist.

She followed the softly spoken words to find her foster daughter. Anderson worked hard to convince Jill to take the young orphan at the age of four. Of course she'd known of his long term plans for her and the others. That'd been the only reason she agreed to cut short her career in ISO intelligence and care for Princess. They'd set her up in this place to give her young charge as normal a life as possible.

'This is, what,' Jill tried to sound sever in her reprimand, 'the third time he's called this morning.

As usual, Mark sent a private message and her ward disappeared. Sitting cross legged, half hidden in the kitchen the young woman ignored her chores in favour of talking. Shaking her head, Jill motioned for the young woman to wrap it up. The evening rush would be here soon enough.

'Mark wants me to meet him at the airfield,' Princess's green eyes pleaded to be excused.

'I'm sure he does,' Jill worked to hide her smile, 'but we have a lot of work to do before the regulars start coming in.'

'It's only two and the lunch rush's finished,' Princess tried, 'I promise to be back by four.'

'The last time you promised,' Jill gave a withering stare, 'you overstepped your curfew by three hours.'

'He needs to talk to me,' Princess tried a different tack. 'You know he finds it hard to express his feelings with anyone else.'

'Is that what you call it?' Jill's merriment couldn't be contained this time. 'Go but be home by three thirty.' As the young woman rushed out to her motorcycle, Jill called, 'and tell him to place the evidence of his eighteen year old male hormones somewhere I can't see the bruises.'

A wide grin crossed Princess's face. 'They healed by the time the rest of the team saw me.'

Shaking her head, Jill knew she'd never report the private messages between the commander and her foster daughter. Anderson would never understand how it felt to be a sixteen year old girl in love. _Maybe_, she considered, _that's why he insisted Princess be placed in my care._


	2. Private Liaison

'Well,' Mark asked, lounging against the door jamb of his shack, 'how long do we have?'

He'd heard Princess's cycle as it ate up the half mile dirt track to his place. Smirking, he went to await her. Arms crossed over his chest, Mark supported his weight on one leg using the other for balance. Blue eyes watched the figure skid to a stop meters from his front door. He adored the way she took off her helmet, the one she only wore to please her foster parent and flicked her black hair into the sunlight. Unable to stop the pull of attraction, Mark opened his arms in welcome. She flew into them.

'An hour,' Princess grinned, capturing his lips for a quick greeting. 'I have to be back to help Jill with the evening rush.'

'I can do a lot with you in an hour,' Mark promised, leading them into his small living room.

'Only if,' Princess teased, falling into his lap on the couch, 'you stay away from my neck! If I come home with a hicky, my guardian might just tell The Chief about our miss use of the communicators.'

'That,' he agreed placing a palm on each cheek, 'wouldn't be much fun.'

The talking stopped. Bringing her head down to his, Mark captured Princess's lips in a searing, heated kiss. Her hands, starting at his shoulders, crept down his back. It didn't take long for her fingers to pull the cotton material from his trousers.

'Jill,' she pulled away taking the t-shirt with her, 'never said I couldn't bruise you!'

Dipping her head, Princess found the cords of Mark's neck. Sucking the skin into her mouth, it tasted faintly salty with just a hint of used aviation fuel. Obviously he'd been flying this morning. Using the very tip of her tongue, she lulled him into a false sense of security, before increasing her pressure. Adding a quick nip, she knew he felt it.

'Turn about,' she giggled, moving further down the sinewy cord and adding another hicky to match the first, 'is fair play.'

'Witch,' he pushed her backwards into the sofa. It didn't take long, using his weight, to press her into the old leather couch. 'Now I have you at my mercy.'

'Only because I want to be under you,' she gloated, opening her legs and allowing him to slip between them. Feeling the evidence of his passion, Princess threaded one hand into his shaggy mop, forcing his head down. The other went to his bare spine. 'Where were we?'

'Two,' Mark reached between them, 'can play at that game.'

Giving himself enough leverage, he pulled her top up while trapping her hands above her head. Before she could react he'd placed a matching bruise just below her right breast. Gentling his movements, Mark used the opportunity to tease her hardened nipple against the lace of her bar.

'Zark calling G-force, come in G-force,' the robotic voice chimed.

Mark let go of the amazing, turgid flesh his mouth wanted to continue tormenting. Swearing under his breath and commenting on great timing, he looked into Princess's eyes and almost drowned. With a monumental sigh, he sat up. Pulling her shirt down, he prepared to answer the call.

'Ears on Zark,' he answered in a flat tone, his eye's watching the woman at his side. She'd found his t-shirt and handed it to him.

'Security Chief Anderson wants you to assemble the team and meet him at the ISO building.'

'We'll be there shortly, out,' he cut the communication. 'Well,' Mark tried to find humour in the situation, 'I guess you're not going to get back to help Jill with the evening rush.'

'This time,' Princess managed to hide the frustration, 'I have a good excuse.'

'Princess,' Mark didn't know how to say it, especially with those huge green eyes hanging on his every word.

'I know,' she looked down at her hands. The left seemed to be strangling the right. 'It all changes the minute the team becomes active. You're The Commander and I'm the tech officer.'

'At least,' he managed, his fingers touching the darkening patches on his neck, 'in bird style, these won't be noticeable, but I'll know who put them there!'

'I'm just marking my territory,' she returned with a soft smile.

Leaning in to give her once last kiss, Mark pulled his t-shirt over his head. 'I'll have something to remind me what's waiting when we get home.'


	3. Kids will be Kids

'Another false alarm,' Jason fumed.

'Never…gona…get to…fight,' Keyop agreed.

'What's the point,' Tiny agreed, 'of training all hours of the night and day,' he moaned, 'and not get to see any of the action.'

'There will come a time,' Anderson rebuked in an even tone, 'when G-Force will need to face Spectra. When that day comes, I want you all to be ready. If our general forces can handle these incursions, we keep you a secret. You form our last line of defence and I want it kept that way.'

'So,' Jason groaned, 'we go back to our normal lives, whatever that means.'

'For now,' The Chief agreed.

'Great,' the most volatile member of the team pushed off the wall. Waving over his shoulder, he called, 'catch you later. I got a car to get ready for a big race.'

'Missed,' Keyop looked at his foster sister, 'dinner rush…..Jill mad already….you get home….now!'

'It's not my fault we got called away,' Princess defended, 'and Jill knows the score. That's why she fostered us. Come on, I'll give you a ride on my bike. If we hurry, we'll be able to redeem ourselves by doing the dishes.'

'You do dishes,' Keyop grinned, 'me, homework.'

'Your regular tutor will be arriving at nine tomorrow morning,' The Chief agreed.

'Mark,' Anderson waited until the others started to file out of the room, 'can I have a word?'

'Sure, Chief,' he placed his hands in his pocket determined his eyes wouldn't follow the gentle sway of Princess's well-proportioned backside.

'It's come to my attention,' the older man played with his moustache, never a good sign. It meant he had something important on his mind, 'that you're using your communicator for private purposes.'

'Ah,' stunned, Mark didn't quite know what to say. He thought Princess managed to take care of that with her expertise in manipulating electronic equipment.

'I'm not about to stop you,' Anderson's lips twitched into something resembling a repressed smile, 'god knows you're going to need the distraction once the team becomes active. Please try to remember, this hardware comes at a price and so does the secure channel. Taking up more than three hours each day is an inappropriate and expensive use of valuable resources when Princess only lives a few miles away. The ISO has granted you an airstrip with accompanying aircraft, a motorcycle and a car for your cover story, so please consider your options next time.'

_They might be G-Force_, The Chief considered as he watched the eighteen year old march out of his office, _but they're still just kids able to rack up an enormous mobile bill we parents finish up paying._


End file.
